One hundred and 21 years at the people's saloon

Editor's note: Can you remember a time without iPhones, Facebook and Twitter, or when you could drive down the street and see more mom and pop shops than national chain stores? In our new series, Norwalk's Living History, hop aboard Jim Downey's time machine and visit businesses and people who have stood the test of time while making Norwalk unlike anyplace else.

Published 1:01 am, Friday, April 9, 2010

The year was 1889. In Paris, France, the Eiffel Tower pierced the sky to worldwide acclaim and in New York City; the Wall Street Journal published its first edition. That Christmas, kids' faces would light up with glee when they discovered a shiny new Flexible Flyer sled was tucked under their tree. And though no one knew it then, the birth of Charlie Chaplin that year would later result in an epidemic of laughter that would circle the globe.

Also in 1889, Jeremiah Donovan opened a "public house" on the corner of Washington and Water Streets in Norwalk.

Donovan was somewhat of a colorful fellow and quite the local celebrity. Soon his saloon became a busy meetinghouse for working men and neighborhood politicos. When, in 1920 the passing of the Volstead Act cleared the way for prohibition, Donovan's morphed gracefully into, of all things, an A&P food market. However, there are stories that claim, with just the right knock on the door of a back room, one could avail one's self of a selection of libations somewhat more potent than a bottle of milk. Donovan would ride his success as a saloonkeeper all the way to the U.S. House of Representatives with a stretch as Mayor of Norwalk along the way.

Next owner up.....

On this corner, Battling "Bat" Kunz, a regional boxing champ with moderate talent, moderate ambitions and moderate success. Bat did, however, love the sport and everything and everyone involved in the sweet science. And it was under Bat's proprietorship that the saloon's signature collection of pugilist photographs was amassed with many still on display today. But Bat's Shanty, as it was called then, also laid claim to a truly inspired moment in the annals of interior decoration. You see, Bat shot a moose on a hunting trip. And yes, its noble head still gazes down stoically on the bar's patrons from its perch on the back wall. If that moose could talk...

Bat's Shanty fought on through two more owners, a name change to Donovan's and finally, its sale to its present owner Richie Ball, in 1978.

" I don't like people!" exclaims Mr. Ball jokingly, when we sit down to talk. In fact, this statement couldn't be further from the truth. Richie is blessed with a fun-loving personality, razor sharp, street-smart worldliness and a truly unmistakable laugh that ranks near the top of the list of all-time great guffaws.

When Richie bought the saloon, Norwalk was at its nadir. The glittering showpiece that we now know as Washington Street wasn't even an idea, let alone a plan. The bar itself looked exactly like what it was, a weary shot and beer joint that had seen its best times. But Richie saw something there, maybe the spirit of an aging fighter with the heart and the moxie to get up off the mat one more time.

And so, over the years, he tended to its wounds. He painted the bathrooms, he fixed the kitchen, and he patched the floors. And after years of unrelenting hard work, just when he got the old joint up and running the way he thought it should be - he had a heart attack. And then another one. And although two heart attacks in quick succession didn't take him down, this was cause for concern. So Richie, with a family to think about, began the process of selling his saloon and retiring.

The sequence of events that happened next is much too Byzantine and complicated to explain here, but suffice to say, Donovan's has been reborn, a dowager Queen with a spectacular facelift. And, it's still owned by Richie, though now, with help from Mac Groetzinger, a Connecticut- based entrepreneur, restaurant owner and general bon vivant with a P.T. Barnum-esque flair for creating "destination" restaurants.

The two partners are well aware of the historic DNA of the saloon. The bones of the old shot-and-beer joint are still obvious. The archival photographs of the Bat's Shanty era still garner admiring comments. And the classic, satisfying food that Richie and his wife Patty along with Mac have perfected over the years is regarded as sacrosanct -- though sometimes after much discussion, a new dish makes the cut.

"There are a few questions people always ask when they come in here," says Mac. "'Is the chowder the same?' `Is the burger the same?' and `Where's Richie?'"

Today, Donovan's & Mackenzie, a Victorian-era jewel with a rough and tumble story to tell still holds court proudly from its throne on the corner, one of the last of what these days is an endangered species, the great American neighborhood saloon. A place that can proudly state, it's where people have their first drink, and their last.